Budding Roses
by Happy Camper27
Summary: Harry was taken by the Dursleys to the Art Gallery just after Second Year. What happens when he's sucked into the world of the Fake Gallery alongside Ib and Garry? One thing is for sure...Harry won't come out of this unscathed. "CoMe PlAy, HARRY...!" R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

Harry sighed irritably as his relatives—Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley—picked up pamphlets at the front desk. They were visiting an art gallery, Dudley having pitched a fit because Piers Polkiss was going as were the other 'cool kids'. Apparently the gallery was having an exhibition of the works of an artist called Guertena.

There were three people in front of Harry and his relatives, a little girl and her parents. The girl, after having a brief conversation with her mother had wandered off into the gallery. Harry looked at his Aunt, phrasing his question as politely as he could.

"Aunt Petunia, may I go farther in to the gallery?" he asked, the words feeling sour in his mouth. The horse-faced woman glanced at him dismissively.

"Go, boy. Be back here by five o'clock though, or we'll leave without you." She dismissed him, and Harry walked quickly away; he was quite glad that she had let him go without a fight. Maybe it was because there were others watching though…

Shaking his dark thoughts from his mind, he headed up the stairs to the second floor of the gallery, somewhat intimidated by the feel of the place. The white walls and classical music gave the gallery a sophisticated, aristocratic air.

He wandered around the second floor, eventually coming to a portrait that sent a shiver of foreboding down his spine. It was a picture of a lady dressed up in red; she looked rather pretty…or, she would've if it weren't for the look on her face. The look on her face was hungry, and her eyes stared viciously out at Harry. He read the nameplate below the portrait.

"Lady in Red…" he muttered, looking at the portrait once again. Something about the portrait, while having a bad vibe to it, drew him in. Unconsciously, Harry grasped his arm just above his elbow—right where the scar from the basilisk's fang having piercing his arm was. Suddenly, the lights flickered above him and he tensed.

"What was that?" he exclaimed, looking around wildly. When he saw nothing apparently amiss, he relaxed. "Huh. Maybe it was nothing…"

Prickles ran wildly down his spine when he heard a wet slap behind him; he spun around, ready to dodge anything coming after him, but saw nothing. Then, he looked at the floor.

_**Come play Harry**_

It was written out in blue liquid, in an elegant script. He stared at it, breathing picking up slightly as he read the rest of what was written out.

**_Come below Harry let's play don't you want to play? We can be friends! Come play Harry!_**

He stared at the words, his heart pounding inexplicably in his chest. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down.

'_It's all right, just a prank, a joke! Maybe someone dreamed this up and I was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time…!'_ he thought wildly, but somehow, deep in his gut, he didn't believe it. He turned away, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and headed for the entrance. He was just by the stairs when there was another wet slap. He whirled around; heart pounding even faster as he realized that there was more blue text on the wall beside him.

**_Come Harry! Come to me! We can be friends! Isn't that what you want? A true friend? Come play Harry; we can be friends forever…_**

Harry's breath caught in his throat. How could this person, whoever they were, know about what had happened with Ron and Hermione?! He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

'_No, no. I'm reading too much into this. There's no way anyone could know about that! But how are they doing this…?'_ he practically ran down the stairs, nearly sprinting for the door. He tried to open it, panic inexplicably growing in his chest when he tried it again and again only to reach one conclusion.

The door was locked.

And he was trapped inside this gallery, with whatever was going on.

He banged on the door, hoping someone would hear him. The panic had built in his chest, forcing out all rational thought. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard a final wet slap behind him. He turned around, emerald eyes wide as he took in the blue text.

**_CoMe PlAy, HARRY…!_**

All went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The air whooshed out of Harry's lungs as he hit the ground. He groaned, sitting up slowly from his supine position. He looked around, startled by his surroundings; before everything had gone black and he had felt like he was falling, he had been in the gallery foyer. Now he was in a gray room devoid of anything decorations save for a simple mirror. As he looked around, something attracted his gaze.

A single white rose lay on the floor of the room near him, its petals starkly contrasted against the floor. Something within him called out for him to reach out and take it, and, yielding to the temptation, he did. His fingers gripped the surprisingly thorn-free stem, lifting the flower to his face. He looked at the rose, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and comfort from having the rose in his hand. He had only felt this level of comfort in having his wand in his hand or having Hedwig on his shoulder. It was…strange.

He pushed himself up off the ground, dusting off his ratty hand-me-downs. He blew an white lock of his hair out of his eyes; for whatever reason, after confronting and killing the basilisk, his hair was streaked with white and silvery-gray. Madame Pomfrey had told him that the trauma and stress had caused the change; Ron and Hermione, before he had overheard them, had complained about it and gotten on his case for it. Of course, he knew why now…

Cautiously, he evaluated the room before turning his gaze to the mirror. Having discerned no particular threat in the room, he investigated the mirror, prodding it and peering into its depths. All he was greeted with was his own reflection of a small boy in too-big clothes with messy, raven colored hair and bright green eyes. Sighing, Harry turned away. No matter what way he looked at the situation, it wasn't good. He had no idea where he was, no present way to get back to the gallery, and no way to defend himself.

All in all, worse than the Chamber of Secrets situation that past June.

At least there he had some idea of what to do, and a way to protect himself. Here? Here…he was all alone. Unless other people from the gallery were here, he had no one to rely on but himself. He shoved down the pang of betrayal as he thought almost instinctively of what had happened with the Sorcerer's Stone at the end of First Year. Even then, he had been alone in the end. Had Hermione and Ron ever truly been by his side?

Shaking away his darkening thoughts, Harry turned away from the mirror, stepping towards the door of the room. Once he was out of the room, he inspected his surroundings. He stood on an intersection; to his right was a wall that had two paintings on it while ahead on him ran past another turn before ending with the only choice being to backtrack or turn right.

He turned right, passing by the wall with the two paintings, their looks sending shivers down his spine; they were nearly the same as 'The Lady in Red's look back in the gallery. He hurried past them, coming out to where he could turn right, left, or go straight. He turned left, hurrying past the headless statues on his left. At the second intersection, he turned right again, pausing at a simple, wooden desk.

It was so simple and ordinary that it made Harry want to laugh.

He didn't know much about this place, strange as it was—what with its pure gray floors and walls, not to mention _how_ he got there—but he knew that something like this wasn't exactly 'fitting in' in this place. His eyes, however, were drawn to the water-filled vase on the desk.

Beside the vase were several papers; Harry, before deciding anything or moving on, flicked through them, hoping for an explanation of his situation. It was written in neat, elegant script, different from the blue text but similar as well.

**As the rose rots, so too will you rot away.**

Harry read the first line and blinked.

"Wait, 'As the rose wilts, so too will you rot away'? So…I can't let the rose come to any harm? But what does that have to do with me rotting away?" he questioned quietly, reading the second line swiftly.

**You and the rose are ?. Know the weight of your own life.**

Harry frowned when he realized he didn't know one of the words in the second line. However, if he were to bet on it, he would probably guess that the word meant something like 'linked' or something similar. And if it were…

Harry looked at the white rose in his hand with puzzlement and skepticism. Honestly, despite being around magic for the past two years, something like this was way out of his depth. He wished he had his wand with him, but it was currently locked in the cupboard under the stairs along with his trunk and school books. He shook his head, reading the third and final line.

**As the rose heals, so too do you. Protect your own health.**

Harry frowned.

"'As the rose heals, so too do you'? So…what heals a plant like a rose? Water would make sense, but in this place, who knows…" he looked at the water-filled vase and looked back at his rose. It _did_ look a little water deprived…

"Okay, let's try this," he muttered as he placed his white rose into the clear water in the vase. Almost immediately he felt better, and he watched as two more petals grew into place on his rose. Not the strangest thing he'd seen, but it was peculiar. "Right then. I suppose those lines _were_ telling the truth,"

He removed his rose, looking around carefully; something was telling him to get moving and get out of there quickly. He started walking again, and walked past what looked like a maze with four of the headless statues guarding the entrances. He hurried forward, turning right at the corner. Eventually, he was greeted with a door on his left; he twisted the handle…only to have the handle stop and clack, showing that the door was locked on the other side.

He breathed deeply and continued wandering around. Something would probably happen soon…right?

Before long—after what Harry counted as fifteen or so minutes wandering around—Harry heard a door open and close loudly; he tensed, heading to investigate the sound. He stared at the (peculiar) duo making their way through the gray maze. One was the little girl who had been with her parents in front of his relatives before wandering off to look at the artwork; the other was a tall man—if Harry had to guess, he would say the guy was seventeen or eighteen—wearing a ragged blue trench coat. His hair was purple with several dark roots, indicating that his hair was dyed purple.

The little girl caught sight of him first, her red eyes staring at him for a moment before she tugged at the man's coat. When the man turned to look at her, she pointed to Harry. The man looked at Harry, his visible eye widening. Harry froze, not sure whether to run or to try and fight.

"Hey! Hey, are you from the art gallery too?" the man called out quietly, almost as though he were trying not to wake someone up. Harry stared at him, nodding slowly. The man's face showed relief. "Oh, thank God for that. We've been trying to get out of this place and get back to the gallery ourselves. What about you? Are you alright?"

"Fine," Harry replied, gripping his rose tighter. "I've been trying to find a way out as well." The man smiled at him, walking closer, the girl still holding on to his coat. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"My name's Garry, and this is Ib," the man said, gesturing to the little girl. "What's yours?" Harry stared at the duo and licked his lips.

"Harry. I'm Harry. Pleasure to meet you," he finally said, gripping his rose tightly to his chest. Ib nodded at him, her face solemn.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied quietly. Harry smiled tightly at her. Garry chewed at his lip.

"Well, would you like to come with us? It isn't safe to be wandering this place alone…" Garry proposed, holding out a hand to Harry. The boy stared at the hand for a moment, debating his choice. Finally, he made his decision.

Reaching forward, he took Garry's hand in his, smiling slightly at the man.

"Yes, please. I'd like that very much."

**/End.\**

**Alright! First chapter of **_**Budding Roses**_** completed! Also, before I finish this off:**

"**As the rose heals, so too do you heal. Protect your own health."—this is my own creation. It wasn't in the game; I used it to help the plot along.**

**As for Harry's rose being white...well, I looked up meanings of rose colors, and I decided (with my Mom's help) that white suited post-CoS Harry quite well. Here are the (some) meanings for (non-bridal) white roses:**

**Purity, Innocence, Silence, Secrecy, Reverence, Humility, Youthfulness, "I am worthy of you", Heavenly.**

**In all honesty, for Harry's personality, it was a toss-up between white and light pink (and yes, I'm saying this because of the meanings. Nothing else). However, I did come up with what I believe is a plausible reason for bits and pieces of Harry's hair to have turned white (in the world of Harry Potter, of course), since the roses for Garry and Ib were colored by some of their physical traits. I know most people were expecting green or black, but I think that white suits him much better. R&R, s'il vous plait!**

**Ja ne, Minna-san!**

**~Happy Camper27**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or Harry Potter. I am an American, not a Briton or a Japanese person. Really, where do you get these kinds of ideas?**

Blue eyes narrowed as she curiously watched three people—a boy, a girl, and a man (who reminded her of Father)—wandering through the Gray Area, slowly solving the puzzles.

The boy and the girl interested her, seeing as they held the White and Red Roses respectively. Maybe they could be friends and play…?

Besides, the boy—with his messy black and white hair and apparently green eyes (she hadn't gotten a very good look)—was rather…cute. Maybe she would keep him as a pet! Yes, that would work. He looked like one of the little rabbits that Father had made so long ago, so helpless and small. He was dwarfed by the man, and wasn't much taller than the girl. He would make a perfect pet!

She didn't like the man. She didn't really know why, but she didn't like him. From what she had seen, he disliked a lot of her siblings, making rude comments about them. And while she didn't really like staying here, she did like her family—the Ladies were fun to be around, so long as she kept her Yellow Rose hidden, and the statues would occasionally play tag with her if she pushed.

Plus, he held the Blue Rose; she didn't like blue very much. Blue meant 'untouchable; unachievable'.

But she didn't want to be here, despite her family.

She wanted to see the outside world—not this Fabricated World created by her Father. And according to the Rules of the Gallery—laid down by Father himself—if one of his creations were to leave this Fabricated World, then someone from the Real World would have to stay behind in the Fabricated World—taking the creation's place.

Hmmm…who would she take the place of…?

"Do you think this is the last room?" Garry asked, turning to look at the two children following him. Ib, when they weren't in danger, was very cheerful and energetic, so it was kind of disheartening to see her red eyes so dull. _'She must be getting tired,_' Garry thought to himself.

But it was Harry that worried him.

The small black haired boy was slim and looked so fragile that a single breath might shatter him. Despite how alert he seemed, his eyes held a frighteningly…_broken_ quality. Like he was already cracked, and it was only a matter of time before he shattered completely; breaking into millions of pieces, never to be put back together.

And that time wouldn't be very long in coming if they didn't get out soon.

He had always been made fun of for his rather nurturing and cowardly personality during his middle school days, but now, with two young children who—while being strong in their own right, if Garry's gut feeling was correct—were very close to their own breaking points, he couldn't help his protective reactions.

Swiftly, he knelt and gathered the two children close to him, hugging them fiercely. Ib started, eyes going wide, while Harry stiffened, obviously unused to the contact.

"We'll make it out, all right? Don't worry; I'll make sure you're _both _safe, okay? Just…just trust me," Garry muttered, holding them tightly. "I'll make sure we all get out all right."

They stayed like that for a few moments, Ib trembling as she simply soaked in his comforting presence. After a moment in the embrace, Harry relaxed, lifting his arms to grip at Garry's coat tightly, like it was a lifeline.

Garry smiled, holding them closer. He wasn't good at close personal relationships—his parents were a good example of that—but he had already found himself irreversibly attached to these two. He hoped he could continue seeing them after they got out; it would hurt to be simply parted from these two children—one of which had already saved his life, more than twice over—never to meet again.

When he released the two, standing back up and dusting off his coat, he noticed Harry standing closer than he had before; smiling, he ruffled the kid's hair. Harry jumped, turning his head sharply to stare at Garry with his wide, emerald eyes. Garry grinned at him, and the startled look faded into what could almost be a…smile, of sorts.

"Come on, let's get this over with. This place gives me the _creeps_." Garry complained, grinning even wider when Ib stifled a giggle at his behavior. While he normally didn't act this blasé and nonchalant, if it helped the kids keep it together, he'd do it as long as necessary. They needed it.

After all, he was technically the 'adult' here. No matter how terrified he was, the children probably felt worse.

Right?

As they entered the final room left in the area, Harry felt _something_ shiver down his spine as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something was wrong with this room. Something was _very, very_ wrong with this room.

Not to say that this entire Gallery wasn't wrong—the moving paintings had given him a scare at first, but he had seen _a Cerberus_ and a _basilisk_. Moving-and-actually-person-like paintings, while creepy and sort-of scary, had nothing compared to those two. Sort of.

But this room was just…even _more_ wrong. He didn't know how.

That is, until he felt Ib stop suddenly beside him. He turned to her, intending to see what the problem was, when he saw her face. Her expressive red eyes were wide and unseeing, staring with disbelief at the sole painting in the room. He followed her gaze, feeling his own spine stiffening as he gazed at the painting.

There were three people in the painting; two looked like the people Ib had been with at the Gallery—her parents—and they were holding hands. But it was the other one that had Harry's eyes widening. She—for the person was female—had long auburn hair that flowed down her back, and unlike the two who looked like Ib's parents (whose eyes were obscured), she had hauntingly familiar emerald eyes that smiled along with her face. She held a pure white rose in her hands, having it just slightly to the side of her face.

She, for all that it was _impossible_, was _Lily Potter_. And it wasn't just a close resemblance—Harry had _pictures_ of her, and she looked _exactly_ the _same_ as in the pictures.

_Impossible_.

And yet, here she was.

Fate really loved messing with him, didn't She?

**/End.\**

**Sorry I took so long! Gomenasai! I just didn't know quite what to do now that Harry, Garry, and Ib had met up. Once I figured out a starting point…it just sort of wrote itself. Of course, I didn't get very far on the storyline, but I **_**did**_** introduce Mary and hopefully began to outline some of Garry's personality. What they have on the Wiki page is kind of sketchy for Garry—he's very feminine in his speech patterns (in the Japanese version) and he's supposed to be into art and fashion. From what we've seen in the game, he's also a bit of a scaredy-cat (which I share. No horror movies for me. **_**Ever**_**) but seems to be a bit of a nurturing personality from what I've seen. So, what you saw in his bit, was my interpretation of his personality: quick to bond with those in need (i.e. Harry and Ib) but has difficulty maintaining personal relationships due to reasons that I haven't quite…worked out…yet…*sweatdrops***

**Anyway. **

**Yes, I did indeed include Lily. And yes, I have an idea…but absolutely no idea how I'm going to get it to fit. My Muse does that a lot. **

**Also, in this story, the Dursleys only **_**verbally abused Harry and neglected him**_**. They didn't physically beat him—he's just unused to the contact. So while he thinks that his life is pretty much expendable (which it's **_**not**_**) he hasn't been physically abused.**

**As for a Garry/Harry pairing? That is a no, actually. For one, the gap is too large and Garry is a legal adult (or very close to it) while Harry is **_**twelve**_** (this is before July thirty-first as well as the dinner fiasco with Marge). If I were to write a Garry/Harry pairing, it would be within a completely different story with them both much closer to the same age if not the same age. However, in reading the suggestions for it, I came up with an idea—one you have all seen the prelude for.**

**I'm going to tell you all, if only to get feedback:**

**Mary will have a (very, very, **_**very creepy**_**) crush on Harry. He **_**is**_** the first boy close to her age that she's seen, after all, and he does look like a helpless little bunny at times…**

**Anyway, Happy (late) Holidays if you celebrate any! If you don't, and even if you do, have a cyber cookie. *gives cookie***

**Thank you all for reading this story—my other more obscure crossover between Gundam Wing and Percy Jackson and the Olympians has been more or less unseen, so you all really lift my spirits no matter how many times I read your reviews.**

**Eh. Long A/N is long. Sorry that the chappie's so short, it was just the perfect cut-off point.**

**Ja ne, Minna-san!**

**~Happy Camper27 **


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